Broadway Star
by theoneshotter
Summary: A little snapshot of Davy having a conversation with a stagehand before his appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show in 1964. He meets the Beatles afterwards


"Are you ready Mr. Jones?" the kindly stagehand asked.

"Oh yes, I'm always ready." The stagehand smiled at the boy's confidence. He was a little one, and though he boasted that he was nearly eighteen, he seemed no older than fourteen.

The man, whose name was Jim Cornby, was a veteran of the stage. Though he had never stood before the crowd, with the lights almost blinding him, he had been here as long as he could remember. His father had worked the stage, and as a little boy, Cornby had been fascinated by the ritual and almost magical ways of backstage. The elegant actors, with their airs and exotic costumes, made his eyes grow wide with wonder. He began working alongside his father at the tender age of thirteen, and seamlessly took over when his father passed seven years later.

A slow smile spread across his face as he watched the tiny actor get ready. With his nose inches from the mirror and the tip of his tongue poked out, he applied liner to make his eyes appear larger than they already were.

"There. Done. 'Ow do I look?" The boy turned to Cornby, an expectant look in his chocolate eyes.

"Like a star." The stagehand straightened his collar and brushed away some lint from his shoulder. "You remind me of my son."

"Do I? What's 'is name?" Cornby sighed, this one was as curious as his had been.

"His name was Claude. He wanted to be an actor too. Sometimes people pass on too soon." Instead of questioning farther, the boy nodded solemnly, a look of deep sorrow in his eyes.

"You've known pain too, haven't you, son?"

"Yes."

"You're a mighty brave boy. Takes a lot to go out in front of the lights."

"Me mam would've liked t' see me out there, that's why I do it. She encouraged me t' act." It took a minute for the New Yorker to understand the boy's accent. His eyes were cast to the floor, and his lower lip quivered slightly.

"You're a long way from home, aren't ya?" The little Englishman nodded, still staring at the ground. Cornby had assumed he was from London, but his accent was different from the others. "Where are you from?"

"Manchester." So he was a working class kid. Cornby himself lived in the Bronx, a very poor neighborhood.

"That's a rainy place, id'n it? Near Liverpool?" Cornby's best friend had been in the war, and was stationed in the port city.

"Yeah, it's a bit like New York actually."

"You're used to the city, then? It scares a lot of people. I been here my whole life." Davy finally lifted his eyes from the dressing room floor.

"Really?" The stagehand was happy to see that the weight seemed to be coming off his young shoulders. His youthful curiosity was back.

"Oh yeah. But I never really wanted to leave. The stage has always been my home. My dad started work here after he got out of the war, in 1919. I started on as his apprentice in 1927. That was the roaring twenties, you know, before the Great Depression set in. It was a great time to be young."

"You lived through the Depression then? Me da talks about it all the time, 'e says it hit Manchester 'ard. We weren't getting all the imports from the states like we did before."

The old man chuckled. "My dad was lucky he didn't lose his job. What does your father do?"

"'E's a railroad engineer. 'E doesn't make much, but it's enough. 'E's 'appy that I've got me own job. Says it took long enough, 'e 'ad 'is first when 'e was fifteen."

"But you can't be much older than that!"

"I'll 'ave you know that I'm almost eighteen, thank you." The tiny actor looked at the stagehand pompously.

"And you are a very accomplished young man. Say, your full name is Davy Jones, right?"

"Right."

"Ya like the sea?"

"You 'ave no idea 'ow many times I've been asked that. It's actually a very common name in England, David Jones is." Cornby couldn't help but laugh, and at the sound of his deep guffaws, Davy joined in.

" 'Ey, what's tha?" Davy looked towards the door at the sound of music.

"That's another act, they're from England too."

"The BEATLES!" The little Englishman exclaimed excitedly.

"Yeah, that's them. There was a big fuss about them coming to the states."

"Can we go watch?"

"Sure kid."


End file.
